


Ending It Before It Begins

by ashes0909, FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 21:39:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17475449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes0909/pseuds/ashes0909, https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: As he ricocheted against a time portal, Tony recognized that maybe, possibly, he should start thinking about his decisions more before he stood behind them with such conviction.





	Ending It Before It Begins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ishipallthings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishipallthings/gifts).



> Written for ishipallthings, who liked Steve/Tony and Time Travel. We hope you like it!

Tony now knew what it felt like to be blinked out of existence, or at least that was what he imaged had happened to him, as he was now catapulting through a wormhole of kaleidoscopic color, instead of standing inside the Barton family's barn. A flash of light sparked to his right, and Tony jolted, flinging through the wormhole to hit its opposite edge where he spun and flung back into the center. 

“Someone has used this device before and survived!” he shouted into the void, his voice unwavering. ”’You’ll get through this.’” He mimicked Steve’s assurance from a few minutes ago. 

He was Tony Stark, afterall, he’d seen a lot of things in his day. So when Fury explained that he'd come to Clint's farm to tell them about a trinket that might help them, and Steve had piped up that SHIELD had given him that very trinket during the war, Tony had volunteered to go fetch it from the past. Steve had used it to find Red Skull, back in 1943, but now, they hoped it would help them keep tabs on anyone HYDRA had augmented with Loki's scepter. Next time, that little witch and her speed freak brother wouldn't catch them unawares.

Steve had insisted he go, despite the clear "you'll meet yourself" paradox issue, but after much tense conversation through gritted teeth, Tony had won the chance to go.

As he ricocheted against a time portal, Tony recognized that maybe, possibly, he should start thinking about his decisions more before he stood behind them with such conviction.

Steve had grumbled something under his breath about Tony's dangerous bend towards self-sacrifice, and it only made Tony want to jump through time more, because the 1940s version of Captain America  _ had  _ to be less self-righteous than the 2014 version. Too many years of being America's favourite superhero had pumped up his ego even worse than Tony's. So even though it made sense for Tony to be the one to go, he also couldn't help but be interested in seeing the Cap from before the ice, the Cap his dad had known and so admired. 

The world around him spun 360 degrees, and his stomach tumbled with it. It might be time to start panicking.

~~~

Tony spun out of the portal and hit something hard and loud. He tried to push to a stand, but the object rocked and rolled under him - a row of trash cans spinning under his feet. It was hard to figure out which way was up, but he knew enough to slide the hologram mask Natasha had lent him out of his pocket and fix it over his face. He had no idea what he looked like, but he knew it wasn’t Tony Stark. 

He was supposed to be in 1943 but a quick search through the trash pulled a fresh newspaper that told him he was almost a decade off, in 1934, instead. Steve was barely in high school, let alone Captain America. Tony cursed. The device was supposed to put him in proximity to Steve, which would put him in proximity of the trinket. If he'd landed in the right year. Pushing away from the trash cans, it was easy to see that neither of those goals had been accomplished.

Tony shoved his hand in his bulging back pocket and pulled his cellphone with the device attached to the back of it. It looked like a cell phone too, in that it had a rectangle shaped screen, but that's where the similarities ended. When he pressed its face, the entire timestream appeared in a blue wave. He could put a date in, and the device would do its best to get him there, but for the time stream, ten years off was practically on target. 

It was going to be a bumpy ride. He was about to try the right date again when he heard a scuffle from around the corner. 

“Scrawny little, Stevie. Can’t even walk straight on those wobbly legs.” There was the sound of a body hitting the pavement, followed by laughter from at least three different teens. 

Tony walked forward. He knew what he was going to see when he turned the corner of the alley, but it was still surreal, like walking into one of those black and white movie reels of a young Captain America. But when the scene actually came into his view, the blood across a sixteen-year-old Steve Rogers’ face was bright red and horrible, too real. He looked so small, barely five feet, standing up to a group of goons because what other choice did he have? 

“Can’t pick on someone your own size, so you have to pick on me?” The Steve in front of him goaded, just like the one back in the twenty-first century did. Only this time, he didn't have the serum to back him up. Tony didn’t know if he should be impressed - considering the odds were definitely not in this Steve’s favor - but he was. It was one thing to read about 'plucky Steve Rogers,' but another thing entirely to see him clenching his jaw and lifting his fists, even as his toothpick legs shook. “Takes three of you to beat up someone barely up to your waist? So tough.”

The leader of the pack growled and raised his fist again. “You’re already beat, but your mouth's still flapping.”

Tony couldn’t intervene, there were all sorts of butterfly effect reasons he didn't need to think about. Even with the mask, this event still needed to happen in Steve Rogers’ life. It took everything he had to turn away, a part of him now trained to be at Steve’s six, protect him, support him, even if the stubborn set of the man’s jaw made him grind his teeth together. Still, it felt unnatural, twisted at his gut, when he walked back around the corner and left him undefended. 

The next alleyway was empty. Tony turned back to the device. At least he knew it worked correctly and would land him near Steve, even if getting the right date was like throwing a dart from behind his back, with his left hard. He pulled it out again, pressed the blue time wave, and with another swipe of his finger he was back in the portal.

~~~

Tony hoped that being on this side of the century already would make it easier to hit his target, but he stumbled to a halt in the middle of an empty street with no easy way to tell what year he was in. Again, he was supposed to be near Steve, but this didn't look like the warzone he expected for 1943, and all was still and quiet - cold, like snow was promised for not too long from now.

He moved out of the street, wrapping his arms around his middle as a shield against the chill, and was reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone when someone barrelled into him from behind.

"Ah! Sorry, mister," a familiar voice grumbled.

Tony's hand barely resisted the urge to snap to his face and make sure the mask was still covering his features. "It's fine. What are -?"

Steve - small and fierce and huddled under a jacket three times too big for him, but definitely Steve - broke into a volley of painfully wet, hacking coughs. His fist, pale blue and shaking, twisted in the front of his coat as he heaved air in between damp bouts. "Sorry -" he croaked, trying to push past Tony to continue walking.

Tony knew he should jump forward again. This was clearly still too early, pre-Rebirth. It felt like wartime America, but Tony had no way to tell how close Steve was to his last 4F. He should say goodnight and find a quiet place to jump. But his hand darted out of its own accord, unable to handle seeing Steve in that much pain and do nothing. The image of beaten, bloody Steve in the alley was still burned in his mind. He grabbed Steve's sleeve and stopped him. "What's wrong?"

Steve sucked in another broken half-breath and shook his head. "Nothin. Just asthma acting up, I guess." He coughed violently. "I'll be alright. Got some cigarettes at home." He tried to pull free of Tony's grip, but another fit had him stumbling into Tony's hold, instead.

"You need to see a doctor. Where's the nearest hospital?"

Steve heaved and choked. "No - no. Okay - Just - home." He tried to pull away again, but half heartedly, and Tony just tugged him closer. Apparently, that self-sacrificing streak hadn't come from the serum. Steve hadn't known when to stand down even as an Army-rejected runt. Half-lidded and watery though they were, Tony could see the flicker of fight alive in Steve's eyes, the same one he saw flash to life nearly every day in the future. 

Tony put an arm around Steve's shoulders and twisted him a little closer so his chilled hands were protected from the wind. "Please let me take you to a doctor."

Steve shook his head violently and coughed again, wet and rough. "No. I'll just -" This time he really did try to pull away, and Tony panicked.

"Okay, fine! Let me take you home then. You're going to end up dead in an alley at this rate."

"Probably my lot in life," Steve grumbled around a few more ragged coughs, but he let Tony lead him down the street, giving him occasional directions as they cut through the neighbourhood, with his voice when he could and with his hands when it failed him.

When they reached the dark brown door of Steve's apartment, he turned back towards Tony and blew on his hands, rubbing them together and bouncing on his feet. His cough seemed a little bit better. "Thanks," he mumbled. He peered up at Tony, squinting in the dark, seeming to really take him in for the first time, or take in whoever he looked like. "You shipping out soon?"

And of course, he was an able-bodied man as far as Steve could tell, fit and healthy and strong. And it also meant that it was after 1939 - Tony was getting closer. "Something like that," Tony said around a sigh. "You sure you're alright?"

Steve nodded. "Mhm. Got some soup and stuff. Don't need a fuss, mister."

Tony resisted the urge to snort "Okay. Goodnight, Steve."

He was almost around the corner when he heard Steve's sandpaper voice call, "Wait! How do you know my -"

Tony pushed the button on his phone and blinked out of reality again.

~~~

Tony rolled out of the portal and onto the hard, dew-ridden ground. His cheek hit a rock and the mask glitched, obscuring his vision until Tony pulled it off. Every pixel blacked out before humming back to life, but it was no use, if he put it back on he’d appear more out of place--all twisted and blurred--than Tony’s own face. He shoved it in his pocket, and before his next breath, there was a large explosion to his right.The smell of smoke and gunpowder was all he could focus on as he crawled on the ground, seeking cover. War. He’d made it to the right decade, the right hemisphere. Steve Rogers should be somewhere close. 

A barrage of gunfire from his left, and Tony moved on his belly to a nearby trench. The trench was empty, which meant its occupants were in the middle of the bombing and gunfire. And knowing Steve - which Tony was starting to think he did, a little better than he'd realized - he was probably right in the center of the bullets. There was a canteen perched against the muddy wall, and Tony picked it up and put it to his nose. It smelled like nothing, so Tony put it to his mouth, drawing in a large sip of silty water. 

Rapid gunfire broke out again, and Tony wondered if the owner of the canteen was still out there fighting, or if….Tony had seen many things, but he’d never been in a yearslong conflict, aware that everyone he interacted with, everyone he befriended or mentored, respected or despised, might have their number up as soon as the battle called again. Steve had lived in that mentality for years. Maybe still did.

Tony’s stomach rumbled to life, desperately hungry from flinging through time over and over. After finding some rations and breaking off a bite, Tony faced the ladder that would take him up the trench and back onto the battlefield. He took a deep breath, and entered the war again. 

There was a small field that separated him from the treeline, and Tony bolted for their arboreal cover. It was where the guns and bombs were going off; it was where Steve would be. 

Tony broke through the trees, and instantly wished he’d been wrong. 

Captain America was on his knees. He was leaning over a body, his hands gripping his cowl as his whole body shuddered with a sob. Tony dropped his gaze. This wasn’t something he was meant to see. His eyes stung though, just thinking about how many times Steve must have been in this position. How he’d been in the exact same spot over Tony, after he fell from the sky in the battle for New York. 

That’s when he saw it, a box like the one Cap and Fury described, near the shield where it rested against a tree. That was what he was here for. Tony moved. Steve made no indication he heard him, as he inched around the treeline in the box's direction. 

There was shouting from the other direction, and that's when Tony realized the sounds of gunfire, which had been going back and forth, on and off, had ceased. Someone called for Steve; they were running out of sunlight and needed to move quickly. So did Tony. 

He picked up the pace, trying to get to the shield and the box quicker than Steve, who was now pulling back from his fallen brother-in-arms and pushing to stand. 

Tony was behind the trunk of the tree that Steve’s shield leaned against, crouching, reaching out for the box. His hand curled around it right when Steve turned away from the body and towards Tony.

Steve froze. Tony knew he was in the shadows but a stream of sunlight overhead broke through the trees. He wondered what Steve could make out in the dappled twilight. 

Another shout from Steve’s men, and it was like a spell was broken. Steve tugged the cowl back on over tear-stained cheeks, and it was Captain America who looked back at Tony now, hardened out of need. Steve had to return to the fight, the never ending fight. Because Steve had been fighting all his life, fighting bullies, fighting his own body, fighting to survive. Tony wasn't sure he knew how to stop fighting, how to put down the shield and his fists and just rest. He’d be in Tony’s place right now, if it wasn't a recipe for a paradox, fighting so that Tony, or anyone else, wouldn’t have to. Tony had seen Steve's dark side now, and it wasn't anything like he'd expected. Part of him wished he hadn't; most of him just wanted to reach out to the kid in that back alley and help him, this time.

Steve moved forward, and Tony moved back, pushing the box in his pocket so he could pull out the device. The blue wave of the time stream appeared and he was about to tap the screen that would blink him out of existence again, but he looked up and met Steve’s eye first. “You’ll get through this, Cap,” Tony said, only staying long enough to see Steve’s brow furrow in confusion before he disappeared.

~~~

Tony knew he should go home, he had what he needed - and he no longer had the protection of a disguise - but the benefit of time travel was that he could manage a little detour and still arrive home in time to save the world. He patted his pocket to make sure the box was safe then scrolled along the time stream and hit jump.

He kept his eyes squeezed shut the whole time, breathing short and sharp through his nose to keep the nausea under control. When he stumbled to a stop, he had dark grey berber carpet under his feet and the hum of electronics around him. Back past the tech boom, at least. He shuffled along the floor cautiously, hyper aware that the clothes that had allowed him to blend in in the 1940s now made him stand out like a sore thumb.

But the halls were empty and quiet, despite the midday sun streaming in through the windows. He recognized the building, and so far, the device had managed to bring him close to Steve every time he landed, even if it often missed the mark on the year, so he knew where he had to be.

He wandered down the hallway, opening and closing doors to empty rooms until he found the one that wasn't empty. The one that explained why the others were - because there were guards at every stairwell making sure no one who didn't have the proper authority could come up here and disturb Captain America while he slept.

There was a large empty space, and inside it, the fake room they'd built to make Steve think he was still in his own time. Tony fiddled with his phone for a moment, jamming the inevitable camera signals inside the room then opened the door. He slipped inside and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against it and took in the figure sprawled out on the crisp, white hospital bed. 

Someone must have put Steve in the pristine khakis and white t-shirt, and Tony wondered at the sheer awkwardness of that. It was probably Coulson. Tony's chest ached - Coulson was still alive now, but not for much longer.

Steve's eyes were softly closed, eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, too still, and Tony watched, not breathing until Steve's chest rose and fell. Even unconscious, Steve was still fighting, tension wound through his stiff frame and pinching in the corners of his mouth. The announcers on the radio lined up the next batter. Tony knew all about this - first from SHIELD's files and second from Steve himself. He'd rolled his eyes and scoffed. "Everything was wrong," he'd said. 

He'd been unconscious for four days after they thawed him, Tony had read that too, so maybe he was too early to see him awake. He knew he should go, but he decided to wait, at least for a while. If he heard footsteps or voices he could just jump away, back to his own time.

It took almost half an hour, but then Steve's eyelashes fluttered, and Tony stepped closer. "Steve?"

Steve sprung up, poised on the edge of the bed. Bright, sharp eyes cut to the radio, then the windows, then raked down Tony's clothes. "Where am I?"

Tony tensed. "You're… in a hospital. At SHIELD."

Steve's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit. Where am I really?" He stood, and Tony backed off, hands raised.

"You're in the future," tumbled out of his mouth.

"What?"

"You're in the future. My name is Tony Stark. I'm Howard Stark's son. We've - we've met before, haven't we?"

Steve stilled, then tilted his head to the side, taking Tony in. "Yes… I think so."

"SHIELD thought it was best to pretend, to try and break this to you slowly, but that's not going to work is it?" Tony took a cautious step to the side and turned the radio off. "You've been asleep. The crash didn't kill you, but it did knock you out. For almost seventy years." Tony watched the truth crash down on Steve. "I'm sorry."

Steve took a few shaky breaths, eyes darting around the room. Tony had blocked the cameras from updating, but there was no way they didn't have a heart rate monitor on Cap as well, along with several trackers, surely, sewed into his clothes, or worse. Someone would be here any moment. Tony took his phone out of his pocket and prepared to jump. 

"I'm sorry if this turns out to be a worse way, but I never liked how they did it. Starting off with lying. You can trust SHIELD, Steve,"  _ for now.  _ "They can be kind of dumb, but they're trying to take care of you, okay? Especially Fury and Coulson. Hill too. Just - give them a chance."

Steve stared openly at Tony's phone. "And why should I trust you?"

Tony smiled, sliding the jumper back to 2014, to Clint's farm. "Because we're going to be friends." There was a loud bang outside the room, and Tony pushed the button. "Steve? You'll get through this, too. See you soon." He blinked away.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
